


as close as I can get to you

by Exaggerated_Specificity



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Begging, Bottom Jensen, Breeding, Come as Lube, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Graphic Description, Hand & Finger Kink, J2 AU, M/M, Mentions of Prostitution, Rockstar AU, Smoking, Spit As Lube, Top Jared, Underage Drug Use, Underage Sex, Unsafe Sex, best friend danni, fp verse, fuckpig verse, underage groupie jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 01:46:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7870780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exaggerated_Specificity/pseuds/Exaggerated_Specificity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immediately following '<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Fuckpig_Verse/works/7658533">Slutpunk Blues</a>.' Jensen has to get to Philly, Jared asked him after all.  </p><p>Fuckpig Verse on Tumblr:<br/>- <a href="http://exaggeratedspecificity.tumblr.com/tagged/fuckpig-verse">MAIN</a><br/>- <a href="http://kelpiesmenagerie.tumblr.com/tagged/fuckpig-verse">NSFW INSPO</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	as close as I can get to you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dollylux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/gifts), [saltandbyrne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne/gifts), [homo_pink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/homo_pink/gifts).



> Title is from the lyrics to '333' by Against Me!

The bus depot’s recorded message says it’ll take six hours and thirty-five bucks to get to Philly. At this point Jensen’s running on nothing but a few bucks in loose change and the residual buzz of Jared’s touch so the news feels like a punch in the gut, an impossible obstacle. If only he’d planned ahead.

He runs grimy fingertips over the already fading Sharpie swirl of Jared’s signature on his chest, making pink unicorn pill goosebumps race down his torso, his nipples stiffening up and a shuddery gasp escaping his lips. He’s memorized the shape of Jared’s name by touch alone. His rock god hadn’t been delicate as he marked up Jensen’s skin. The whorls of his fingerprints caught just a little on the faintest hint of swollen edge where the marker had scratched into him. It made him feel marked, owned. Just the tiniest bit whole. His presence was requested and Jared had personally signed the form.

“Come to Philly.”

The words tumble again through Jensen’s strung out mind.

How? Fucking how?!

He balls up his fist and presses his knuckles against his closed eyelids as he folds down over himself, growling with frustration in the privacy of his tagged-up, Plexiglas phone booth.

The bars were all already closed so there wasn’t much chance of turning a trick. If he could just get his hands on the thirty-five he could catch the 8:10am bus to Philly and make it there with plenty of time to scrounge up what he needed to pay for a ticket to the show. His stomach knots as seconds keep ticking away, the distance between him and Jared stretching. That ache, that longing, pulled at Jensen’s insides like a cable strapped to the center of his chest, a feeling more intense than the night he made up his mind to leave home.

He falls back against the hinged doors and bangs his head against them until all he can hear are the creaking door hinges drowning out the desperate voice in his head chanting “think, Ackles, think.” Danni would punch him hard enough to bruise if she were here.

~

“J-Jensen?”

Her voice is so faint over the din of the highway in the background that at first Jensen thinks it’s his imagination.

“Fuck, Jensen. What the fuck?”

“Hey, D,” he says, almost wistful. He’d never admit how good it was to hear her voice.

“I almost didn’t answer, you prick. It’s four in the fucking morning.”Danneel’s voice is sleep-ragged and soft, none of her intended bite is there behind the words.

“Sorry, Danni I just – I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Jesus fuck, you can’t keep me waiting this long between calls. I was about to really give up this time…” Her bite’s back but the sentence is strangled by her tightening throat. Jensen can hear the tears that want to flow from her big, pretty doe eyes.

He braces himself against the guilt, sharp as a real blow to his already battered insides. She was right, he hadn’t called her since Louisville and it wasn’t fair. He’d left Danni behind in his wake and even though she hadn’t ever brought it up outright the shame and guilt clawed at his insides worse than a hungry stomach ever could.

“I know, Danni,” he croaks, his throat still a little hoarse from shouting along with Jeff’s booming vocals at the show. “I know and I’m sorry, it’s just been… it’s a lot harder than I thought. But it’s also great. Today, er, yesterday was anyway…”

He lets the memory of the last few hours settle in around him in and he can’t help but let the excitement flutter up in his chest, devouring his guilt for a moment as he stutters out his revelation to his best friend, his only confidant.

“Danni. It finally happened. Finally. Jared… He… I… We talked, in – I’m in Pittsburgh. He asked me to come to their next show. In Philly. He wants to see me again…”

“What, wait? Explain…!” Her volume increases at the end before he hears her hand cup over the phone, muffling the excitement in her sleepy voice. “I mean honestly it sounded like he was avoiding you on purpose, the way you talked about it.”

“I know, fuck. Danni, I was ready to give up. But I swear to God… This is it, I know it. I FEEL it. It’s like my go big or go home moment, D. I’m so fucking goddamn nervous.”

“You’ve got this, babe. You’ve been training your whole life for it, I mean…”

They laugh together, Danni a little more quietly than Jensen, but it feels good, feels like she’s on the road with him, linked arm in arm like they always had been. It makes what he’s about to ask her a little easier.

“Wish you were here, Danni. Wish you could see them. I swear they get better every fucking night.”

“Do you have money? God, Jensen, you’ve been gone so fucking long. How can you afford to keep doing this, how can you afford…” Her throat closes up around the words but she recovers quickly this time, he can picture a snarky sneer on her lips. “You know what? I’m sure I don’t want the answer to that so just – forget I asked.”

Bless her.

“Danni, um. That’s... That’s actually why I called,” he ekes out, scrambling to preempt the tongue lashing he’s due. “I know – I know. But before you chew me out – I know I fuckin’ deserve it – but before you tell me to fuck off and hang up or whatever just remember that I haven’t asked for anything, not a dime, since I left. I promised I wouldn’t and I haven’t but…” his eyes swim in tears, hot and acrid as they streak clean little paths down his cheeks. “Fuck! I’m just – I’m fucking stuck and I don’t know what else to do.”

The silence on the other end of the line makes Jensen’s eardrum twitch, vibrating in the soundless vacuum of black plastic cupped around his ear. More tears tumble down his face but he manages not to start sobbing, not yet.

“Just this once, Danni. God damn, I hate myself for even asking this, but just this fucking once and I swear to you I’ll never ever ask again. It’s just so late here so I don’t have a way to get the cash together in time. The bus leaves in a few hours – it’s only like forty bucks. When I get to Philly I should have plenty of time to get what I need for the ticket. Shit, I’ll get enough to pay you back! I’ll even pay the fee or whatever it costs to send it. Please, Danni. Please?”

More quiet. More guilt ballooning up in his chest, heavy and aching like a swollen black eye. He swallows a little sob and grits his jaw as tears flow down over the place Jared signed his name.

“I know how it sounds. I know. But please, Danni. Please. This is it. If this doesn’t work out I’m going to stop. I was already planning to settle down a little, try to find a new home base, you know? But Jared… Danni he – “

“God, you haven’t changed one bit,” Danni says, cutting him off before he descends into hysterics. Her tone is as bare knuckled as that punch she’d give him if she were here. “Still as shameless as ever.”

He can hear the smirk in her voice, too. Pretty girl.

“You have no idea.”

He hears her nails clicking on the keys of her laptop and a wave of relief washes over him that’s so intense he covers his mouth to muffle his sobs.

“Tips have been really good,” she says as the keyboard quiets. “Plus I’ve been saving up, hoping to come see you maybe. So it’s fine, like, what’s the point of that if you’re just squatting in some shithole in Schenectady or whatever, you know? I’m sending you enough for the bus, the show, and a room. Okay, doll baby? Get prettied up for your man. Bring him back to your room and blow his fucking mind. I want details though, you understand me? First thing. And you need to check in with me more often. I have these fucking nightmares about having to identify your body and it’s – just fucking call me. Okay, Jen?”

He drops to his skinned knees on the sticky metal floor and cries into the receiver at her for a solid minute, babbling thank you’s and promises and praise through his tears of joy. He’d cut out a kidney and mail it to her if that’s what it took to repay her kindness. Lord knows he didn’t deserve it.

“Shh, babe. I got you. I wish I was there with you too. It’s okay,” she soothes, her gentle, understanding voice had always offered Jensen more comfort than his own mother had even been able to. “Tell me where you are and I’ll point you to where you can pick up the money.”

~

The humid morning air clings to the three (four?) day sheen of sweat and tears built up on Jensen’s freckled throat as he waits in line to board the bus. He rubs his grime-rough hands over his tacky skin, the promise of a motel room and a hot shower calling to him like siren’s song over the smooth jazz crackling through the bus speakers. The fold of bills carefully tucked in his front pocket is a weighty, unfamiliar comfort as he finds a seat and pulls his wadded up hoodie out of his backpack to use as a makeshift blanket. He’s asleep with his head tipped against the window as soon as the bus’s tires kiss the highway, finally taking him closer to what he chooses to believe is his destiny.

~

It’s a relief to be able to get off the bus and stretch his legs knowing that he doesn’t have to look for some lonely closet case to relieve of his load just to get a ticket to see his man play again. He takes his time mapping out his path to the Trocadero Theater where Fuckpig is playing, calling the box office to get their hours, and finding a room he can afford nearby.

There’s Super 8 across the Delaware in Jersey that’s sketchy enough to not bother asking him for an ID. It’s also one of the few places around that are in his meager budget, even if it was a fifteen-minute bus ride to the venue. By the time he’s bought his ticket from the Troc’s box office and ponied up for one night in the motel he’s only got enough of Danni’s generous donation for a quick trip to CVS for smokes, toothpaste and bubble bath and a double cheese and large iced coffee at the McDonald’s down the street. It would do, this needed to be his last stop for a while. He promised Danni.

~

A few hours later and he’s out of his bath, clean inside and out (cough), smelling like Mister Bubble with a scratchy white hotel towel slung low around his hips. He’s never been this nervous before a show, so intent on making everything perfect. He puts together the pieces of his outfit carefully, whipping out a purple sharpie, a few safety pins, and a few studs off his hoodie fished out of the bottom of his backpack to finish it off. He glosses up his cotton candy mouth and pinch-slaps his cheeks until they’re pink as his little boy cunt. The focus keeps him from puking up the only food he’d had in the last two days.

~

As usual, Fuckpig is sonic perfection. Jensen carves his way down front as usual and his gaze is locked on Jared the entire time. He’s hypnotized by those big hands, the sharp cut of his knuckles as he plays fast and loose, growling into the mic. Jensen swears his hole lubes itself up right there on the floor in GA thinking about taking one of those huge, inked up fists.

By the time the show is winding down Jensen’s adrenaline is starting to spike. He’s waiting for a look from Jared, any sign that he’s been noticed there in the front row singing along with every nuance, every lyric etched into his heart like they were written for him personally, but it never comes. The band dips backstage after the last song, returning like clockwork to play ‘Coke (can) Dick’ and an especially grungy, sex infused cover of ‘Goodbye Horses,’ a song Jensen recognizes from the Silence of the Lambs soundtrack. Jared’s crooning over the chorus makes Jensen’s dick unreasonably hard.

That’s when it happens. The audience is still pulsing with the song and the band is saying their second round of goodbyes and suddenly one of the venue’s barrel-chested bodyguards is right next to Jensen, hand around his elbow, shouting something at him that’s drowned out by the cheers of the crowd and the tinnitus buzzing in his ears.

Jensen’s brain finally catches up and focus in on the guy’s sweaty, goateed face, his words sinking in.

“Hey, kid! Come on! You’re wanted backstage!”

Jensen's eyes skitter up to the stage, more than a little confused, his heart slamming like Momoa’s bass in his babyslut chest. Jared’s putting his guitar on its stand, the only member of Fuckpig still on stage, and he looks right at Jensen, flashing his pretty teeth and those boy-next-door dimples at him before disappearing backstage.

He doesn’t know how he makes it to the side of the stage or up the stairs. It all happens so fast that Jensen’s dizzy drunk with it, his hands bracing the graffiti scrawled walls to help support his wobbly knees as he works his way into the back of the theater. Once security pointed the way he was abandoned in the empty hallway, the booming cheers from the audience beginning to fade as he looks back over his shoulder at the venue now flooded with the too-bright glow of the house lights. The theater crew is already starting to break down Fuckpig’s equipment and he can hear the oddly familiar voices of the band behinds a partially closed door. He practically stumbles into the green room, a big whiff of fresh pot smoke billowing up as he enters.

Jason and Jeff are on the couch, smoking a fat blunt and a thick cigar respectively, both still bathed in post-show sweat. Adri’s nowhere to be seen but Jared’s standing next to the open bathroom door, raking a shabby grey towel through this hair. He gives Jensen an amused little grin but doesn’t say a word, just keeps those fox eyes trained on him in the low light. It feels like Jared isn’t just looking at him but through him, seeing through his slutty clothes and cocksure strut right into the jack-rabbiting heart of the awkward fourteen year old boy underneath. It’s devastating and the reality of the situation hits Jensen in the solar plexus like a two-by-four with a nail in it.

Jenny Lane has her moment.

“Hey, Kitten,” Momo bellows, his big hand reaching up and patting Jensen’s forearm. “Good to see you again.”

Jason doesn’t offer him a puff of weed or one of the freshly opened Heinekens he and Jeff are both nursing. He just gives Jensen a warm grin and a wink, standing up and kicking Jeff’s big black boot. He motions toward the exit with his chin, the beaded braid dangling from his goatee swinging a little with the movement.

“Let’s give this cutie a moment with the elusive Jaybird, Jefe. I’m sure you got a gaggle of pretties already waiting for you out by the bus. I gotta find Adri. She promised to go to Tony Luke’s with me.”

Jensen shoves his hands in his pockets and mutters as heartfelt a thank you as he can manage, shifting his eyes down to the scuffed toes of his knock-off Chucks. Jeff mumbles something around his stogie that only Jason appears to understand and they shuffle together in a mingled puff of smoke back into the hallway, the door creaking and hanging half-open in their wake.

It seems like an eternity of silence until Jensen feels like he can look at Jared again without falling over. He can feel Jared’s eyes on him still, as real as a physical touch, and he honestly doesn’t trust himself not to breakdown right there. Still he manages to look up, digging his nails into the palms of his hands to center himself.

“Tell me your name.”

Jared continues his post show ritual, pulling off his sweat soaked t-shirt and using it to wipe his chest, lower back, and up under his pits before dumping it in a soggy heap on the table. He rakes his sweat damp hair back with his hands and bundles it with a snug, black tie in a messy knot at the back of his neck before fishing a fresh shirt out of the duffle bag sitting on the bottle-strewn vanity.

“Jensen,” he finally manages to reply without his voice wobbling too much, trying to meet Jared’s eyes from under his lashes.

“Hi, Jensen,” Jared grins as he tugs on a clingy, black ribbed tank top. He crosses the room to shut the door before sitting down on the couch.

Jensen swears he can feel Jared’s magic x-ray kaleidoscope eyes peering straight through his handmade “I WOULD BOTTOM YOU SO HARD” crop top and his favorite pair of obscene cutoff shorts. They glide expressionless over the big black X’s smudged across the back of Jensen’s hands, the rainbow of bruises and scrapes he’s picked up from the pit and the road, and his motley collection of back alley tattoos. Jensen feels about as lovely as a come stain under the scrutiny, frozen in place by the power of Jared’s gaze.

Jared bends his knee and brings his booted left foot up to perch on the edge on the sticker coated coffee table before draping his long right arm over the back of the couch, spread out and comfortable. He pats his hand softly on the shabby plaid cushion.

"C'mere."

The low rumble of Jared’s voice makes Jensen’s knees wobble as he finally pulls himself from the spot he’s been cemented to for the last five minutes. He tries to make it casual, tries so hard to walk over to the couch like it’s the most natural thing in the world, but in his mind’s eye he’s scrambling to be at Jared’s side like an over eager pup, hands nervously wringing in his lap once he finally nestles in a few inches away from Jared on the broken down cushion.

At least he was bold enough to tuck himself as close as he dared up under the drape of Jared’s long arm. He’s rewarded for it by Jared’s thumb tracing delicately over the top edge of his shoulder blade through his shirt.

“So, how many shows is this for you, Jensen?” Jared asks, cocking a curious eyebrow.

Jensen knows exactly, knows the number better than his own birthdate at this point, but he manages to bite his lip and look down at the frayed, too-short hem of his shorts for a moment like he’s doing the math in his head.

“Fourteen. Every show on the ‘CUNTWRECKER’ tour so far plus Austin, the Q-Core Fest.”

“Wow. You’re dedicated,” Jared says with what looks like a genuine smile as he dips his head down to catch Jensen’s downcast gaze. “One of the more loyal fans I’ve met out here. It’s awesome. Means a lot.”

Jensen tries to turn away as his cheeks pink up again. Jared’s got him blushing like a schoolgirl and his heart trying to batter its way out of his ribcage, he can’t help it.

“Hey,” Jared says, his voice soft but firm as he folds his whole huge hand over Jensen’s bony shoulder. “Look at me, okay? Let me see those eyes.”

Jensen’s Adam’s apple bobs so hard in his throat that it’s painful but he manages to meet Jared’s eyes again, sputtering out a barely audible “sorry” as he focuses on holding back the sudden threat of tears digging at the back of his throat.

Jared flashes Jensen those lady-killer dimples again and releases his shoulder, his arm still framing Jensen close enough for him to feel the heat radiating off of Jared’s body. He must run at least six degrees hotter than your average human. It made little beads of sweat collect at Jensen’s temples and in the hollow of his collar bones.

“But you were gonna stop, right? After Pittsburgh? I mean, I told Jeff we should change up the set list more, keep it fresh…”

Jensen sees the humor flash in Jared’s clever eyes but scrambles to reassure him nonetheless.

“No, God. It’s not that, not at all. I just – I didn’t have a way to get here but… I – uh, a friend came through for me and, yeah, I mean I’d follow you guys anywhere... I just…” Jensen almost lets his eyes fall again, knowing he’s rambling and not wanting to complain to Jared about money or his struggle to keep up with Fuckpig. “I love you – I love your music so fucking much.”

His nerves are thrumming with the blurted confession. He reaches up and nervously tugs on his still healing ear without thinking, hissing a little as his finger rubs over the bright red cherries etched into the delicate skin.

Jared’s eyes track the movement and Jensen jerks his hand away too quickly, self-consciousness making every one of his movements feel like he’s being jerked around on marionette strings.

Jared’s arm moves with the grace of a big cat and the thumb that had just been stroking Jensen’s shoulder blade traces softly over the outer curve of Jensen’s ear. The only remaining trace of Jensen’s virginity. Shiny and bright red, right next to the only cherry hole he figures he’s got left.

“Cute,” Jared says, not prying for meaning like so many others would. His knee tips toward Jensen’s leg, bumping into his thigh, right next to one of his pretty pink thigh bows. “It’s kind of a theme with you…”

Jensen’s lips part and he sucks in a little breath as he scrambles for something naughty or clever to say in return but Jared leans in a little, his breath making the baby-fine hairs on the side of Jensen’s neck quiver, his nipples standing up diamond hard under his shirt.

“I like it,” Jared grins as the fingertips of his other hand drag nonchalantly up to the tender pale of his inner thigh, underlining his SLUT tattoo with just the hint of fingernail.

“This one maybe Mama hasn’t seen though, huh?”

Blood rushes straight to Jensen’s dick as his right hand scrambles to clutch at the back of Jared’s hand. He’s shaking, he knows Jared can feel him shaking, but it stabilizes him a little getting back a modicum of control. He turns his head sharply to hold Jared’s gaze, barely able to breathe.

“She hasn’t seen any of these,” he says, gulping down the saliva suddenly flooding his mouth. He licks his lips and forces the corner of his mouth up into a little smirk.

“At least most of mine are easy to hide,” he manages. “What’s your mama got to say about CUNT FUCK over Thanksgiving dinner?”

Jared laughs out loud, his teeth running over his bottom lip as he glances down to where Jensen is thumbing over the word FUCK etched into the knuckles of his left hand. He contemplates it for a moment, turning his hand in Jensen’s and lacing their fingers together before answering.

“Well, it gives us something talk about besides my eternally damned soul, I suppose.” His eyes twinkle and stumble down to Jensen’s mouth for a moment before he forces them back up to lock eyes again. “My family stopped being surprised about anything I do a very long time ago. At least now I’m not doing it where all their friends can see.”

Jensen bathes in the honesty of Jared’s words, finding comfort in the shared history he can sense there. He squeezes Jared’s hand, the unbelievable heat of it seeping into his cold, bony fingers feels like heaven.

"You still have my name on your tits?" Jared asks, eyes narrowing in on Jensen’s chest like maybe those sparkling eyes really can see through his t-shirt. His hand untwines from Jensen’s, one long index finger hooking into one of the belt loops of his cutoffs.

"Show me."

It’s so natural, so dominant. Just bordering on possessive. It makes Jensen’s brain short circuit.

Jared’s foot falls to the concrete and he tugs Jensen into his lap. Those big hands guiding his hips, maneuvering Jensen into place like he weighs nothing.

"It's - it's faded a little,” Jensen wobbles, his whole body trembling as his hands scramble to brace himself on Jared’s broad shoulders. “I took a bubble bath earlier and it kind of – "

"Get this off and show me,” Jared says, just this side of impatient, plucking at the cropped hem of Jensen’s tee.

Jensen risks his balance and lets his hands leave Jared’s shoulders, tugging the shirt clumsily up his torso so he can shimmy out of the snug scrap of child’s sized cotton.

Jared runs his thumb over his own faded signature.

“Maybe we should do something a little more permanent next time…"

It’s all Jensen can do to stop his eyes from rolling back into his head. Goosebumps erupt up along his arms, down his torso, his nipples tightening up enough to cause the pin stabbed through his tit to ache a little.

He’s lost in Jared’s orbit completely, scant inches between them, the air all but vibrating with Jensen’s nervous energy as Jared gazes up at him with those mysterious eyes.

A loud, hollow banging on the door finally breaks the trance.

“Hey, J-Rod. We’re all loaded up, time to hit the road!” A man’s voice calls from the hallway, boisterous but urgent.

“Fuck OFF, Chad,” Jared barks, not even looking in the direction of the door, eyes still pinning Jensen in place on his lap. His big hands squeeze minutely where they’re locked around Jensen’s hips like he’s not about to let him go.

“Don’t make me the bad guy, dude. Jeff’s already claimed the big bed and Adri and Momo want to go get some grub. NBD! Just bring your boy toy and let’s GO!”

Chad pounds the door with his fist one more time before clomping away, big boot footfalls signaling that he’s not going to wait around for Jared to finish whatever he’d gotten up to in the green room.

Jensen takes a deep breath and the tension in the room crumbles, leaving him soft and trembling. He’s worried that his legs won’t hold him but he moves to pull himself up off of Jared’s lap.

“Hey, hey. No,” Jared soothes, reaching up to run the palm of his hand up Jensen’s bicep, keeping him on his perch. “Let’s go somewhere. Not the bus.”

Jared moves his hand to brace Jensen’s hip as his own buck up, angling so he can reach into his front pocket for his phone. Jensen can’t help but look down at the heft of Jared’s dick as he moves, how obscenely it bulges through those well-worn black Levi’s. He shifts back to rest his weight on Jared’s thighs and lets his hands fall onto his own, squeezing out the last trembles of nervousness pulsing through him, forcing himself to speak up as Jared bangs out a few hasty texts.

“I, uh, um…” Smooth, Ackles. “I have a room. I mean, it’s a crappy one – in Camden – but it’s not super far? Maybe like a twenty dollar cab ride. I mean, if you…”

Jared looks up from his phone as Jensen’s words trail off and grins at him like a Cheshire cat, his split tongue slipping from between his lips like that of a snake’s, one side of it running reflexively over the point of his canine. It deposits a shiny little spot of saliva on his upper lip.

Jensen has to press his knees together a little to stop himself from toppling forward to chase it with his own boring tongue.

“Yeah, exactly. Somewhere like that,” Jared says, searching Jensen’s eyes and squeezing his hip. “Let me just – “ Jared looks back at the screen of his phone and types some more, gnawing at his bottom lip and shifting his feet on the concrete while he waits for whatever confirmation he’s seeking.

Jared hasn’t even kissed him, hasn’t even tried, but there’s some kind of intense connection thrumming between them, hidden between the few words they’ve spoken, burning in their eye contact and the electricity of their touch. It’s all Jensen can do to sit there without fidgeting nervously as he tries to shove past the case of crippling self-doubt he’s come down with because Jared Padalecki is the one underneath him. Finally.

Jared looks back up, leaning forward and slipping his phone into his back pocket before wrapping an arm around Jensen’s waist and tugging him closer. The slide of the bare backs of his legs down Jared’s jean-clad thighs makes Jensen shudder, his chest tipping forward and his arms circling Jared’s neck.

“Cab’ll be here in ten,” Jared husks, his mouth so close Jensen can practically taste it. Jared’s hand settles over the exposed arch of Jensen’s lower back and he breathes in deep like he’s smelling Jensen as he bores into him with his eyes. His expression makes Jensen feel like he’s about to be eaten whole and his stiff little cock lurches under his zipper, like it’s reaching for Jared through the cheap denim.

Jensen has never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his entire life. He needs it with every fiber of his being but it doesn’t seem real, it doesn’t feel right just taking something that isn’t expressly his to take.

He’s never experienced anything quite like it. It feels sacred. Special. For the first time Jensen maybe understands what people mean when they talk about “the one.” When they talk about wanting to save themselves.

He swallows hard, eyes widening in hope of strangling away the tear that wants to squeeze out and run down his cheek.

“You should get your stuff, yeah?” He whispers, so quiet it’s a miracle Jared even hears him. The reciprocated ‘yeah’ is the only thing that prepares Jensen to be lifted up as Jared stands, turns, and lets him sink slowly back to the sticky floor.

Jensen stifles a groan as his erection’s pressed for a moment against Jared’s abs through scant layers, dragging over the half-hard beast looming behind Jared’s zipper for a breathless moment before Jared’s letting him go, peeling Jensen’s arms from around his neck, and walking back over to the vanity.

Jensen manages to put his shirt back on before Jared flashes him that panty-dropper smile again.

“I’ve got cash for the fare, just tell the cabbie where to go. These fucks won’t bug me ‘til morning. I’m all yours until then.”

~

Jensen Ackles has a condom. Just one. He forked over a whole dollar in quarters for it from a Lifestyles vending machine in the bathroom of some nameless gay bar in Little Rock, Arkansas. He was still buzzing with excitement from seeing Fuckpig that night, stoned on Jason’s high-quality weed, had his hopes up about finally meeting Jared, and was feeling like a used up piece of gutter trash for giving up his pretty little cunt for less than a Greyhound ticket.

What if he did meet Jared? What if Jared was interested? What if all his dreams came true and Jared took him back to the tour bus, his sweet piece of boy pussy for the night? And what if Jared wouldn’t even touch his slutty hole with someone else’s dick unless there was protection involved?

Instead of buying one more tallboy from the bartender who was too preoccupied with Jensen’s ass to notice to the big, black underage X’s on his hands, Jensen ponied up for one ‘ultra-sensitive’ condom (the machine didn’t carry the XXXL kind) and shoved it into his studded pink nylon wallet between all the ticket stubs and bus transfers.

It was rumpled from weeks in his back pocket and his pretty little cunt had been used plenty since then. Bare got him further and bare got him off. For some reason he was still saving the rubber, just in case. He left it behind during his pre-show pep-talk, somehow convinced that it was jinxing his chances. ‘Don’t get your hopes up.’ Now it flashes like a beacon from the nightstand in Jensen’s peripheral vision as he lets Jared into his room for the night. It’s faded gold wrapper glares at him from across the room like the red-flag, deal-breaker his paranoid mind suddenly tells him it is. It’s feels like the rookie indicator of a too eager teenager or the calling card of a paid sex worker.

Tonight Jensen felt like a little too much of both for his own liking and his anxiety is a dog chasing its own ragged tail. It doesn’t help that the whole thing is too surreal for words.

Jared the rock god. Tall and gorgeous, still glowing with his post-show high, walking casually into the motel room paid for by Jensen’s childhood best friend. Jared who still hasn’t asked Jensen’s age. Jared who could have pounced Jensen easy as pie in the Trocadero green room. Or the alley behind the venue. Or in his cramped little bunk on the bus. Or in the back of the cab he paid for. Jared who kept Jensen touch-close but still somehow at arm’s length. Jared who wasn’t much for words but sparkled with enough energy to keep Jensen on edge the entire night, his asshole throbbing between his cheeks, swear-to-god wet for the man he had been dreaming about with single-minded focus for months and months.

Jensen Ackles has Jared Padalecki. For the night, anyway. Whatever that meant. Nothing to lose and everything, all at the same time. ‘Breathe.’

Jensen toes off his sneakers out of habit, a once-good boy trained well by a Texas mama with beige suburban carpet. Meanwhile, Jared makes a beeline to the AC unit under the curtained window. He flips up the front panel up and cranks the knob until the beast lurches into life and begins pumping stale, refrigerated air into the room at full blast. Goosebumps race up Jensen’s legs but he can’t tell if it’s the chilled air or the fact that Jared’s in such close proximity.

“Sorry if it gets a little cold. I just sweat a lot. Too fuckin’ much.”

Jensen’s intimately familiar. He’s obsessed with watching it cascade down Jared’s face and neck during when he plays, the stage lights making the sweat bead up on Jared’s brow and glisten along his clavicle from the moment he steps on stage. He not-so-secretly wants to lap up every drop with his tongue and finds himself licking his lips before he even realizes.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

He pulls off his t-shirt again, an attempt at resetting the evening back to before Chad had interrupted, and closes the gap between them, taking Jared’s wrist to pull him toward the bed. There’s a curious smile on Jared’s face but he follows, watching Jensen with clear, intense eyes.

Jensen finds some of his confidence again as he climbs backwards onto the creaky bed while keeping the eye contact, feeling together and graceful and like he might be capable of climbing Jared like a tree after all. His insides ache with want. His hole hasn’t been pounded in two days and it’s snugged up tight again, twitching as Jensen imagines his fingers wrapping around Jared’s veiny shaft instead of his thick wrist.

Jared stops when his legs bump into the side of the mattress, his lips parting just a little as Jensen rises up on his knees and drags his hands slowly down the ripple of Jared’s bare arms. He runs his fingers all the way down over the inside of Jared’s hands, linking with his own, palm to palm, fingers weaving together.

“They’re what I always focus on. Your hands. They’re so big, so graceful.”

He brings his arms up with Jared’s in tow, gently pressing their clasped-together hands against his chest. The broad backs of Jared’s hands press right over his little boy tits.

“I always watch how they move when you play. I swear I could play every song just by repeating the movements of your fingers.” Jensen doesn’t mention that he’s never even held a guitar. He’s just that obsessed.

He flexes his fingers, lining his up over Jared’s and presses down. He matches up the bottom of their palms and grins when the tip tops of his fingertips dig in at the curve of Jared’s top knuckle. His hands are so much smaller than Jared’s, so soft and delicate in comparison. Jared’s hands flex back and he finally dips forward, his eyes falling to Jensen’s mouth, for once refusing to find their way back up to his eyes.

“Makes my hands seem so little…” Jensen says softly, his tongue sweeping out over his still glitter-glossed bottom lip.

Jared groans, deep and low in his throat, when his forked tongue finally sweeps across the seam of Jensen’s lips. He teases between them just a little, just a taste.

Jensen shudders head to toe, his breath ragged as Jared pulls back.

“So little,” Jared breathes, “So sweet…”

Jared tilts his head and seals their mouths together completely, dipping his tongue in deeper, untwining his hands from Jensen’s to pull him closer.

Those big, warm hands clutch at Jensen possessively like Jared’s trying to gather him up by the handful. His long fingers dig into the plush curve of Jensen’s ass through his cut-offs and his fingertips curl up under the ragged hem to run along the crease of Jensen’s butt cheeks before edging into the sweat-damp crack of his ass.

Jensen’s hands grasp at Jared’s face and neck, returning Jared’s heated kisses with his own starved-animal tongue, nipping and sucking and making high-pitched needy sounds without a scrap of self-consciousness. He sucks on Jared’s modded tongue like it’s made of divinity, his too-skinny frame writhing frantically against the hard planes of Jared’s muscles until Jared’s kneeing up onto the bed too, one hand slithering down the back of Jensen’s shorts while the other works at his own zipper.

Jared’s gets three fingers tucked right up against the throbbing pink furl of Jensen’s hole and it makes Jensen’s entire body shudder. It’s so good that Jensen’s whimpering for it as he clings to his shoulders and sucks on Jared’s lips, begging wordlessly for Jared to push inside, take him apart.

“Show me.”

Again. The words make Jensen’s back arch hard, make him gasp into Jared’s mouth as he’s deposited on the shitty mattress, Jared pulling back to watch Jensen shove his shorts down his skinny bowlegs. Jared’s mouth is open, the fingers he’d been pressing into Jensen’s hole sweeping over his tongue as he reaches down the front of his jeans to pull his cock out.

It’s even more divine in person, breathtakingly so, and it’s so close Jensen can fucking smell it, feel the heat radiating off of it. He can imagine exactly how it will taste burning hot and weeping slick all over his eager tongue.

It’s too heavy and thick to stand straight up, even with Jared squeeze-stroking the base of the shaft, licking every bit of Jensen’s cunt sweat off his fingers. It hangs an engorged, pulsing curve between Jared’s still-clothed thighs, its purple-pink head shiny and throbbing like an extension of Jared’s fucking heart.

The tip is pierced Prince Albert style and there’s an insanely fat two gauge circular barbell dangling from his slit, dripping a thick bead of slick onto the cheap comforter.

Jensen’s legs open without hesitation and he reaches down to pull up on his thighs so he’s spread open, showing Jared exactly what he wants to see, exactly where Jensen wants that vicious-looking, cunt-destroying, life-changing prick.

“Like this?” He asks, lashes batting, flexing his inner muscles to make his bare little boy pussy wink.

Jared’s fingers find him again, this time slicked with spit as they press against his spread open cunt. Jared sucks in a hiss of breath as he presses in and it opens just enough to kiss at his fingertips. He slaps it roughly. The wet smack of Jared’s fingers on Jensen’s tender hole makes both of them groan.

“Fuck,” Jared practically sobs. “Fuck yeah, just like that.”

Jensen whimpers as Jared slap-primes his cunt into ripeness a few more times, gasping as he feels it heating up, softening and opening under Jared’s wide fingers. He could come just from that, little pain-slut. His cock a quivering leaking mess against his belly, twitching hard with each sharp kiss of Jared’s fingers.

“Flip over, get it in the air for me,” Jared says, his voice wrecked but commanding.

Jensen doesn’t need to be told twice. It’s every one of his wildest dreams come true. Every time he recreated that album cover was paying off here in real-life living color. He’d presented like this on the floor of his bathroom, looked at his hole in the full-length mirror, memorizing the before and after shot of riding his ten inch suction cup dildo just like that, humping back on its unforgiving length until sweat was streaming down his face and he felt almost ready to take the real thing.

Jared’s hands are on his hips, pulling his ass into position before Jensen can even get his knees underneath him, hauling him so far down the bed that Jensen can barely reach the rubber on the night stand. He scrambles for it though, even though they’ve just gotten started, not wanting anything to separate him from having Jared’s massive dick inside him.

“Here,” he breathes, turning around to look at Jared up the arch of his back, offering the condom like it’s a handwritten love note. “If you want it…”

Jared can say no, he can chuck it on the floor if he doesn’t want to put it on, but Jensen can’t let go of that little voice telling him he’s not clean, not good enough for Jared to breed bare, no matter how much he needs it.

Jared’s other arm is still hitched up under Jensen’s hip when he takes the condom, his lips curving up into a soft smile as he examines the object Jensen pressed into the palm of his hand. He looks at it thoughtfully for a moment as rises up, running his other hand down the sweet little dip of Jensen’s back. He presses down between his shoulder blades, hand so wide, pinning him down, before curling down over him and kissing wet and rough up the side of his neck.

“Slow down, okay?” he breathes up against Jensen’s ear. “We got all night.”

Jensen practically purrs like a kitten, his body writhing under Jared’s much larger frame, letting himself be kissed, pressing back against Jared when he reaches down to rub the head of his cock over Jensen’s hungry hole. The metal of Jared’s cock piercing is cold and hard, bumping over the ridges of Jensen’s pucker while his slit gushes out slick heat. The head feels impossibly wide, pushing Jensen’s cheeks apart to nuzzle up against his desperate pussy hole.

“Gotta get it ready for me first, don’t we?” That honeyed voice still so close, just a taste of Jared’s accent lilting through the words.

Jensen nearly sobs, the choked out little sound makes his pussy throb.

“Just – fuck, just put it in me, Jared. Please,” he pants, lungs struggling to expand under Jared’s weight. “Wanna be yours, want – wanna be cunted.”

Jared’s breath hitches in his chest as he pushes himself up with the hand that’s spread between Jensen’s shoulder blades. It makes Jensen gasp like a drowning kitten, makes his entire body thrum with a deep seated need to be held down and fucked. Ruined.

Jensen’s eardrums twitch at the condom wrapper ripping between Jared’s teeth, his ass pushing up instinctively as he looks back at Jared towering on his knees behind him. He reaches back and holds his cheeks apart without being asked, wanting Jared to be able to watch as every divine inch of that massive god-cock sank into his slicked up little boy hole, wanting it stretched taut like a rubber band as Jared turned him inside out with it. He watches wide eyed as Jared jacks his tree trunk of a dick and begins to stretch the condom over the head.

Jensen’s heart sinks at the loud SNAP of Jared’s guitar string calloused thumb popping through the whisper thin latex, his stomach knotting at the gritted “fuck” Jared utters as the rubber splits around his too-fat cock.

“No, no, no. Oh no, fuck,” Jensen whines, reaching back to grasp desperately at Jared's thick forearm. He claws at him, begging. "Please, please don’t stop. Please, Jared, fuck! I can take it. Gimme your hand. Come on, gimme your fist. Just don’t stop."

He hangs onto Jared’s sweaty forearm with everything he has as he twists onto his back again, his legs open wide and snaking around Jared’s thighs, keeping him close. He pulls Jared down over him, that big heavy cock tucking between them, so massive it curves all the way up to Jensen’s ribcage, blurting out slick onto the sole of one of his filthy Kewpie doll’s tattooed feet.

He drags Jared’s hand to his mouth and crams his fingers into his mouth, sucking at them desperate and hungry despite the bitterness of condom lube spreading over his tongue.

Jared watches rapt as Jensen clutches at his hand and devours him, sucking down all four fingers, bathing them in spit and cramming them into the back of his throat. Jensen doesn’t stop when he’s gagging, just bats his teary lashes up at Jared even as he’s coughing phlegm all over them, pulling them out and sucking on each one to drench it as best he can.

“Fuck,” is the only word that Jared utters, pressed between ragged breaths as he watches, his hips twitching a little so his prick nudges out more precome across the flat plane of Jensen’s belly.

Jensen’s a panting, slobbery mess when he finally pulls Jared’s hand away, still holding it firmly in his hand like he was going to cram Jared’s entire arm up his own ass himself.

“Please…” he whimpers softly. “Please, I’ll do anything…”

Jared pushes up on his other arm, spreading his knees wide and tucking up under Jensen’s thighs. He pulls his dripping hand from Jensen’s iron grip with a soft chuckle.

“God. Such a hungry little slut for me. Aren’t you, baby?”

Three fingers again, slick on Jensen’s quivering hole, pushing without pause and twisting up into his cunt. The stretch burns the breath right out of Jensen’s lungs. His hands fly to Jared’s shoulders and his back arches so hard that he’s practically levitating.

“Wanna get fucked so bad,” Jared growls, spreading his fingers wide and nipping up the wicked curve of Jensen’s neck. “You’re ready to let me punch fuck this tight little cunt.”

Jared thrusts in hard, knuckles kissing Jensen’s swollen rim, flicking his fingertips up to seek out Jensen’s prostate. He twists his hand again and tucks his pinky inside, pushing hard as he clears his throat and spits what comes up onto his knuckles.

Jensen’s yelping and sobbing for it so loud that his throat aches the same way it does in the middle of Fuckpig’s set. His rim is stretched so tight that Jensen swears it’s going to rip. The thought makes electricity race up his spine and his balls tighten up, insides clenching so hard around Jared’s long, invasive fingers that he cries out at the exact moment he starts to unload.

“Fuck, baby,” Jared sighs, his voice soft, almost reverent. He’s pressed inside as far as his massive hand will go, wide knuckles working at Jensen’s clenching rim as his fingers undulate smoothly, pushing on Jensen’s insides and milking every drop of come out of his balls.

Even though Jensen’s still drunk on it he knows it’s the hardest he’s ever come, he can feel his load slipping down the center of his chest and collecting in the hollow of his throat as his body convulses with every aftershock. Jared just holds him, keeps his hand firm so Jensen’s cunt doesn’t push him out, and massages at his secret pink parts until he’s a whimpering, fucked-out, boneless mess.

When Jared finally relaxes his hand he runs his thumb up over Jensen’s taint, pressing down gently over his swollen, throbbing prostate from the outside as he lets his fingers slip free.

“God, that’s pretty,” Jared sighs, sliding two fingers back inside Jensen’s throbbing pussy, running around the edge of it as Jensen finally manages to open his eyes again.

“Don’t think you’re taking my fist tonight. Not enough lube anyway.”

Jared reaches up with his cunt-warmed hand and slip-slides his fingers through the runny load painting Jensen’s chest. He’s on his knees again, holding back Jensen’s left thigh, with his eyes still trained on Jensen’s fucked-out little gape as he starts jacking his cock. Jensen’s come lubing it up enough to make his fist glide long and fast over the gorgeous curve of it, the metal ring at the tip flashing bright as he works it expertly.

“Fuck me,” Jensen sobs. “Please, Jared. Fuck me bare. Breed me. I’m fucking yours.”

Jared’s eyes slip shut and his jaw flexes like he’s trying not to come. Jensen just stares up at him, begging, praying to a God he doesn’t believe in to let this golden god split him open on the most gorgeous cock he’s ever seen. Jensen’s not a believer but maybe his Mama would be proud of him for trying.

It works, Jared’s eyes snapping open and locking onto where Jensen’s stretched and quivering, feeding the fat, come-slicked head of his dick up into Jensen’s body with a gut-punched groan.

The sound Jensen makes isn’t human as Jared opens him up, forcing his insides to part despite the lack of lubrication, despite the depth. Jared’s curled down over him again, arms braced on either side of Jensen’s head, as he locks in deep, the too-thick base of Jared’s veiny dick making Jensen’s pussy lips scream with the stretch, his insides lurching as he’s penetrated deeper than ever before.

Just like his hand, Jared holds firm, staying still but for a little rocking of his hips against the soft curve of Jensen’s butt cheeks.

He dips down and presses a soft kiss against Jensen’s chin, his lips, and the very tip of his nose.

“This mine now? My cunt?” He whispers against Jensen’s lips as he moves his hips, his dick turning Jensen’s insides out with the slow-drag exit. It’s only a few inches before he’s letting gravity pull him back in. Jensen’s practically folded in half under him so much that he can feel the punch of the head throb behind his belly button when Jared’s hips slap against his ass.

Jensen knows it wasn’t really a question. He’s so irrevocably Jared’s that even the word ‘yes’ seems meaningless. Jensen’s mouth opens anyway but no words escape, just a garbled, high pitched whimper that returns for every thrust of Jared’s hips. It’s so fucking hot, so wet, each thrust making Jensen’s insides that much more supple, sloppy with Jared’s slick. He’s so full he can’t fucking move, can’t do anything but to lie there and take it like a good little cunt, his entire existence narrowed down to this moment.

Jared’s dripping sweat over him, breathing so hard between each kiss he presses to Jensen’s face and neck that he sounds like he’s part animal, rutting and grunting, his muscles vibrating with the strain of it.

"Sweet little baby. Fuck…” He licks up under the notch of Jensen’s earlobe. “Tryin’ so hard aren't you? Tryin’ so hard to be good for me. This sweet little body barely takin’ it all. God, you’re so good. So fuckin’ good, Jensen."

Jensen's orgasm comes from some place deep inside his chest he didn't know existed, exploding out through his body, every nerve ending on fire with pleasure and pain. His cock isn’t even hard but he comes apart on Jared's dick, eyes rolled back, screaming so fucking loud that Jared presses his hand over his mouth.

He feels Jared’s big hands wrapping around his pelvis, hauling him up and keeping Jensen’s little hips plastered against his body. His back is arched and he’s twitching against the bed, boneless again and sweat-sheened. That’s when Jared loads him up like a fucking blow up doll, growling like a dog and rutting so hard that each thrust makes Jensen’s head snap back in a sweaty mess against the mattress.

He can feel the heat flooding his insides, that big dick lurching and twitching in his over-sensitized guts, so deep that he feels bloated with cock and come. It’s so fucking good he never wants to be anywhere else, would live happily hanging off the end of Jared’s dick like a goddamn hood ornament, a smile on his fucking face brighter than a supernova.

Jensen groans so loudly when Jared pulls out that it wakes him out of whatever trance-like state he’d fallen into. It feels like his insides slide out too, into a shiny pink pile between his thighs, but he doesn’t bother to check because in all honesty he can’t think of a better way to die.

Jared smooths his hair back and blows cool air over his face, stroking gently down the curve of his cheek, his thumb tracing the ridge of his cheekbone.

Jared kisses him until he falls asleep.

~

“No, Chad. Just use the GPS. Fuck, can you just put Adri on?”

He can tell Jared’s trying to be quiet, trying not to wake him, but Jensen can’t help but whimper a little as he moves. He feels like he’s been hit by a tour bus.

Jared’s closer now, sitting down on the bed and running his hand over Jensen’s thigh through the sheet.

“Hey, yeah. Ready when you are if Chad can actually manage to find the place. It was good. Better than good. No. I mean. I don’t think so. Listen, A, I gotta go. I’ll see you guys in fifteen.”

The ache in Jensen’s chest is even more painful than the way his body betrays him. He turns and tries to smile without his face wincing up in pain or sadness. The way Jared’s face falls tells him he fails.

Jared smiles softly and leans down for a soft, practically chaste kiss.

“It’s real early but we’re playing Syracuse tonight. Then Albany and then New York City this weekend. It’s kind of breakneck at this point, not a lot of downtime…”

“Yeah,” is all Jensen can manage, his throat too tight to risk saying more.

“Checkout isn’t until noon so you should sleep. I know you’ve been traveling just as much as we have.”

Jared runs his hand through Jensen’s hair and looks at him so softly that Jensen has to look away and bite his lip, tipping his face into the pillow to catch the tear that beads up in his tear duct.

“I’m – I’ll try to make New York. Kinda promised the friend who helped me out that I’d, uh, slow down a little.”

“Yeah,” Jared breathes, leaning over to press a kiss to Jensen’s temple. “I’m gonna go smoke a cigarette before they roll up. Don’t worry, I won’t leave without sayin’ goodbye.”

Jensen shields his eyes against the light outside when Jared opens the door and slips out onto the balcony overlooking the parking lot.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, his hands folding over his face for a few more breaths that help him think more clearly.

He’s aching and sated and deliriously happy even though Jared’s about to leave. It’s the most confusing feeling in the world. He sighs into the pillow as he rolls onto his belly, clenching his inner muscles so he can feel the sense memory of Jared inside him, feel that bitter-sweet, swollen ache of his guts that always makes him purr the morning after.

It’s never been like this though. Not ever.

He reaches back and sweeps two fingers over his hole, finding it as puffy and soft as he’d imagined, dipping inside to wet his fingers. He sucks them between his lips and groans for the bitterness of Jared’s come before letting himself think about what happens next.

He can't go to Syracuse. He doesn’t have two bucks to his name and he can barely walk.

He can’t turn a trick, can’t bear the thought of erasing what happened with Jared for another bus ticket. Just the thought of letting someone else touch him or fuck him makes his heart race, like everything he’d just experienced will vanish.

The rumble of the bus’s engine makes him spring to his feet despite the pain, yanking on his cutoffs and bounding out onto the balcony before Jared can slip away.

He can tell by the butts stamped out on the filthy concrete that Jared’s on his third cigarette. He offers what’s left of it to Jensen.

“I’ll look for you in New York,” Jared says, pressing a smoky kiss into the corner of Jensen’s pout. He reaches out and runs his thumb over the cherries tattooed in the curve of Jensen’s ear.

“See you soon, Jared.”

“Yeah, I hope so.”


End file.
